I could feel the heavy weight from his feet against my body, and he hadn’t even taken off his cleats yet. He was currently resting on the bench, with his cleats propped up on my stomach. I felt literally helpless, and I knew there wasn’t going to be much in the way of an escape. His smooth penetrating dark eyes seemed to pierce my skull. It was twenty minutes past the soccer game and all I could do was stare up at Matt in his dirty uniform. Minutes later there I was tied under the bench of the locker room, with just Matt. You felt like when he talked he paralyzed you with so much excitement that you couldn’t move. He had a beautiful voice for a big loud jock, but his cocky voice had a really domineering edge to it. Matt had this loud and aggressive voice, but one that sounded sparkled clear, high and cocky. Or if I substitute a pair of skater tube socks for my game socks one day then you’ll really be sorry. After baseball you’re going to be sniffing stirrups and sucking them dry. You’re going to be sucking soccer socks for homework, and smelling ripe cleats. Think you’re still in class at school? Welcome to the fuckin locker room my friend! Matt makes the rules in this world. “You look like fuckin Jeeves in your little Sherlock Holmes outfit. “Why the fuck are you all dressed up” he said. (I was only fifteen at the time- this guy was about 27). I has a shirt and tie on as I stared at this guy who looked like he was several feet taller than me. “Your feet stink, sir.” I politely exclaimed, rather reservedly. Don’t you like when my soccer socks are soaked with sweat after a game? Don’t you like it when I’m done with a game and I simply slap some cheesy socks over your face? “What’s-a-matter, never smelt a real jock’s feet before? Don’t you know man that I like my big stinky feet? I’m not fuckin embarrassed about them either. “What the fuck are you staring at, dude?” he exclaimed. It smelt rather sweet and vinegary with a long lingering quality And boy did Matt’s feet stink! It was not a sick smelling odor, I’d say. He had a gloriously high arch, the balls of his feet naturally prominent, and toes that were long, meaty, and could spread apart widely when he sat down and wiggled his toes after the soccer game. He must have worn a size 18 shoe, but his feet were not the super thin and bony type either. You’d also see these huge wet imprints on the floor of the locker room that told you Matt was there. You’d actually hear a wet sucking sound as he popped off his cleats. His socks were so wet that when he took them off he had a habit of wringing the sweat out of them with his bare hands. ![]() The once white sock was now discolored a deep orange, stained as usual with his toe prints on the bottom. As it hit the floor I stared down at the thing for a minute. Several times I’d be walking when suddenly **swap** the sound of his long wet soccer collided with the bridge of my nose and lips. He knew I was the lame towel boy that was supposed to take all the soccer players soiled socks and jocks to the Laundromat. Until one day…I was walking into the locker room, and Matt knew who I was. Even when he took off his huge cleats in the locker room, and people felt the compulsion to hold their nose, no one would ever dare to complain about his intensely sweaty foot odor. But no one would think to ever question Matt about his sock habits. A lot of the soccer players noticed that he would go for weeks of playing soccer without changing his socks. Matt was a big dude, about 6 8’’ and he had these long white Adidas soccer socks he loved to wear to pretty much every practice. ![]() I remember watching his feet resting on the edge of the foot stool from the other room, afraid that he might catch me staring at his rank and smelly feet. “Geez, man, my feet fuckin stink today!” he exclaimed out loud.īoy was he right. “Thump…thump” his cleats sounded as they hit the floor. Usually he’d go over to the lazy boy recliner that he owned in the den and remind himself that it was time to veg out and relax. Everyday he’d come home all muddied from soccer with his socks stained from a long hard game and sweat pouring down his ankles. Matt was the star player on his high school soccer time.
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